We Take Care of Our Own
by People Person I'm Not
Summary: My first ever AU... Emily and Spencer have a dysfunctional home life, but they can fend for themselves. When a social worker enters their life, everything changes. Whole team will make an appearance. Also, Morgan/Garcia ship. T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. So this is my first ever AU...little nervous about it. It's edited from my Scholastic writing competition entry, where the main character is a girl, so sorry for any discrepancies. Shoot me a PM if you see any, and I'll change it. Um...I DO NOT think Reid is plain, just making a point. As for any OOC, well, this is an AU. Enjoy!**

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I spot her, trudging home through the snow. The thick flakes rest in her dark hair. With the halo of snow around her head and her cheeks rosy from the cold, I can see what others see, what they say about her. She is an angel.

She opens the door and enters quietly. "Hey, Spence," she says, giving me a hug. I can feel her ice-cold hands through my thin t-shirt. There wasn't money for gloves this year.

"How was school, Emily?" I ask, assuming the role of both good big brother and concerned parent. I am the closest thing to a storybook parent Emilyknows, and I need to play the part to perfection.

She tips her head, and beads of water run down her thick locks. "Boring. I wish I was the one to stay home."

I frown at my sister. "Em, you know that won't happen. Mom and Dad can only afford to send one of us, and you're the younger."

Abby shakes her head. "I heard them talking. They send me because I'm pretty. I mean, _you're _a genius."

There is no malice in her voice, just a matter-of-fact resignation. I purse my lips, knowing that she is right. Emily is beautiful, all wavy black hair, rosy cheeks, and big, chocolate brown eyes. I, on the other hand, am plain. Mousy brown hair, straight as a stick. Hazel eyes, with not even a hint of any shimmer. Hands cracked from years of housework. Mom and Dad make me the caregiver, the homebody, even though I'm male, while Emily gets all the good things, not that they can give her much. They believe that her looks will give her more opportunities, and don't want her to spoil that.

I look at the thirteen-year-old girl before me, wise beyond her years. As a sixteen, almost seventeen, year old I have far too much on my hands, the responsibility of a women many times my age. I have responsibility for not only my life, but Emily's as well, and my parents when they are, as always, intoxicated and unable to care for themselves. But sometimes I think that our lifestyle had a far bigger impact on my young sister. I got to stay at home, sheltered from the world, in a sense, forbidden to be a part of things, but at the same time protected from them. She was thrust out into the midst of things, getting to see into the picture perfect lives we would never have.

A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. We have a routine for everything, even something so commonplace as a knock on the door. Emily immediately rushes to the room we share, though not before sneaking a peek at our passed-out parents to make sure they could pass as asleep. I straighten my clothes and hair as best I can and go to answer the door.

A young woman stands there, shifting from foot to foot and digging her nose into her thick scarf. I look jealously at her. I would do anything for a coat and scarf like that—though not for me, for Emily.

"Yes?" I ask, shivering as the wind bites through my threadbare Salvation Army shirt.

"Is this the Reid residence?" the woman asks, consulting her clipboard.

I nod warily.

"I'm guessing that you're Spencer?" she asks next.

"Yes," I reply uneasily. I don't like that my name is in that file of hers, or that she knows it, while I don't know who she is. This automatically gives her a leg up on me, puts her in a position of power, and I hate it.

"May I come in?"

"I guess so." Any other answer would leave her suspicious. Better to allow her in than to make her come back with her superiors and conduct a thorough search for the reason I denied her entry.

I move aside to let her enter. She steps into our living room. Looking around, pretending to look through her eyes, I cringe. The room is clean, painstakingly so—I have nothing else to do in my spare time—but it is worn, displaying clearly our lack of money.

"Where are your parents?" the lady asks.

"At work." The lie comes easily, too easily. I don't know why I said what I did—normally we claim that they are asleep. Their passed-out drunk state can oftentimes pass for sleep if we arrange the blankets carefully enough.

"I'm Jennifer Jareau," the lady tells me, pulling off her snow-studded knit cap. "I'm a social worker, called by…" She looks again at her papers. "…Mrs. Strauss, who says she works with your younger sister Emily?"

She turns the statement into a question. I frown. What was my sister's guidance counselor doing meddling in our home life?"

"Is Emily here?" Ms. Jareau askes. I sigh.

"Emily, c'mere."

Emily pokes her head around the wall dividing the hallway from the living room. Upon seeing Ms. Jareau she squeaks and pulls her head back. I sigh. "It's okay, Em."

She cautiously enters the room. Her cheeks are still rosy, though from cold or fear I can't tell. I look closely at my sister. She is thin, but could pass for slender, rather than skeletal. She shows no clear signs of the hardships we endured, and for that I am thankful.

"Um…hello?" Emily says fearfully, looking to me for confirmation that she is doing the right thing. I nod and open my mouth to speak.

Before I can say anything, however, Ms. Jareau takes over. "Hi, Emily. My name is Jennifer Jareau. Your guidance counselor called me and said she was concerned about you."

Emily looks at me in fear. I guess it is because she knows that talking about our home life at school is strictly off limits. "I swear I didn't say anything, Spence."

I envelop her in a hug. "I know." But I only say that to make her feel better. I've noticed Emily's behavior change, from the little girl I knew to someone much more uncomfortable with our place in life.

Ms. Jareau clears her throat. "Mrs. Strauss said that she was concerned because," she looks down at her paper and reads, "'Emily is antisocial to a fault. On closer examination, she does not eat at school, wears old, worn clothing, and is much too thin. She refuses to talk about what goes on at home, specifically anything regarding her parents. I highly recommend that someone checks in on the girl.'" She looks at us. "Anything to say?"

I flash a proud smile at Emily. She didn't say anything, didn't go against the rules we were taught young. Looking at Ms. Jareau, I shake my head. "I'm afraid that this…Mrs. Strauss, was it?...has it all wrong. There is nothing to be concerned about." Except for Emily's not eating. She qualified for free lunches at school, and should be taking advantage of that.

Ms. Jareau isn't buying my false consolation. "Oh, really? Then I suppose you wouldn't mind if I took a look around."

Emily and I lock eyes. Hers are wide with worry. I am better at hiding my emotions, but they are much the same as the ones reflected on my little sister's face.

Before we can say anything, Ms. Jareau walks into the hallway. She peeks into the first room, our parents' room, and freezes.

"Spencer?" she asks.

I curse under my breath, and move to where she can see me. "Yes?" I ask, trying to make myself sound innocent.

Ms. Jareau is frowning. "You said your parents were at work. So who are the people here?"

I don't have a ready lie, so I'm forced to tell the truth. "My…parents…" I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, really?" Ms. Jareau's kind voice has become cutting, cold. "You lied to me."

I look at my feet. "I was scared."

"Of what, exactly?"

I have never voiced these fears to anyone, not even Emily. "Of losing my sister. You're a social worker. I'm sure you've had to break up families before. What you don't understand is that all Emily and I have is one another. I can't risk losing her. We lie and hide to stay together, to keep what we have. No matter how dysfunctional this whole thing may seem, it's all we have."

Ms. Jareau reaches over and pats my hand. I pull my hand back and say, almost in a hiss, "Don't touch me. I don't want your sympathy."

Emily leans into me, and I stroke her hair. "Hey, small one," I whisper into her head. "Nothing is going to happen to the two of us." She gives me a half grin.

Ms. Jareau shakes her head. "Can I come back tomorrow?" she asks me.

I want to tell her no, but that wouldn't help the case I'm already plotting to keep Emily and I together. So I nod in resignation.


	2. Chapter 2

When morning comes I rouse Emily, shaking her gently. "Hey, pretty thing. Time to get ready for school." She groans gently. I shake her again, harder this time. "Up and at them."

Emily rolls over and peels her eyes open. I can't help but laugh at her. She looks so tiny and young and adorable lying there, hair in tangles around her face. She sticks her tongue out at me.

I toss Emily her clothes and go to make breakfast.

Half an hour later I am waving Emily out the door. I watch jealously as she trudges down the street in the direction of the school.

I sit down at the table with a cup of coffee and this month's bills. I have to figure out how to stretch our welfare check and whatever little money I manage to scrounge far enough to cover the bills, food, clothing, and whatever else we happen to need over the month.

A banging on the door pulls me violently from my consideration of how to make ends meet. At first I am confused, but then I remember Ms. Jareau asking if she could come back today. With a muffled curse I go to open the door.

Ms. Jareau is there, as expected, but she is not alone. With her are two men, each carrying a bulging garbage bag. I have no clue about the purpose of these bags, but I do not like the sight of them.

"Is Emily here?" Ms. Jareau asks as she enters.

I shake my head. "She left for school about an hour ago."

The four of us—Ms. Jareau, the two men, and myself—perch in the living room. The two bags are on the floor, taunting me. We make small talk for a while until eventually my curiosity gets the better of me.

"What's in the bags?" I ask, biting my lip.

With that question Ms. Jareau breaks into a grin. "Things for you and Emily."

She heads over to the bags, sitting herself down on the worn beige carpet. "This one is all for you," she tells me, opening it.

I suck in a breath. I've heard stories of children on Christmas morning, but never understood what they felt until now. I can see all kinds of things in there, the kind of things I've always wanted but never had. A peacock blue winter coat. A dark green knitted hat with matching gloves and scarf. Clothes, both for winter and summer. And other things as well—books, notebooks, writing utensils. All the things I've craved for so long. And they're new, not the Salvation Army or consignment shop things I'm used to.

Upon seeing my face, Ms. Jareau's grin spreads until it looks like it would hurt. "I have the same kind of things for Emily," she tells me.

If it weren't for my hatred of contact and my fear to trust, I think I would swoop Ms. Jareau up in the kind of hug I only ever give my little sister. But… "What's the catch?" I hear myself asking. There has to be one. Nothing this good could possibly come strings free.

Ms. Jareau frowns. "Ah. Yes. We're going to have to put you two in foster care."

I jump up. "No! You can't split up Emily and I."

Ms. Jareau gestures at the two men. "These are my coworkers, Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi. We reviewed your case last night, taking into account what you said about not splitting the two of you up. We found the perfect family, willing to take in both of you."

The taller man, the one I think is Mr. Hotchner, leans towards me and hands me a picture. It is of a smiling couple. The woman is pretty, blonde and slightly plump. The man, his skin the color of coffee with cream, is tall and heavily muscled, almost scary.

"Names?" I ask.

Mr. Hotchner looks at me. "Penelope and Derek Morgan. I know them personally, and they're wonderful people, willing to take in both of you."

I nod. "Can we meet them first?"

Mr. Rossi looks at me. "Of course. Also, I'm willing to repeat what Aaron said...Penelope and Derek are wonderful people. Can we pick you and Emily up tomorrow to go meet them?"

I nod again. "That'd be great."

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**A.N. Wow, second chapter of the day. Can't promise all updates will be this fast, though...I'm juggling school, band, dance, and a hell of a lot of stories. Anyhoo...hope you liked it. Review, please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. I wrote part of this, then forgot to save it. So mad at myself. That's why it seems a little short (to me, anyway). Enjoy, though. Does anyone know if Morgan has a nickname for Prentiss? I'd like to include nicknames that are actually used on the show. I know Reid's, but not any for Prentiss.**

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The next morning dawns bright and cold. I get dressed in the clothes we were brought and wake Emily.

"Hey, Em, get up," I murmur. "Today's the day we meet our new parents."

Emily, who's never been a morning person, bounds out of bed. I back up quickly to avoid having my nose broken, and trip over something on the floor. I quickly leave Emily's room before I actually hurt myself.

* * *

I brew a pot of coffee and pull down the sugar bowl. I look in it, and am disturbed to find it almost empty. I could've sworn I just bought sugar.

Emily waltzes in. "Maybe the sugar would last longer if you didn't use so much in your coffee," she says, then spins away as I take a half-hearted swipe at her.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts of coffee with no sugar, which wouldn't work. I head towards the door and open it to see Ms. Jareau. I ask her in, but she declines when I tell her that Emily and I are almost ready, saying she'll wait in the car.

* * *

Ms. Jareau's car is nice. I've only ever been in crappy beat-up rust buckets, though, so it could just be the lack of comparison. I sit up front next to Ms. Jareau, and Emily bounces around the backseat until I turn around and firmly tell her to sit down and get buckled up.

Once she does so, the ride is uneventful. Finally, we pull up at a house. It seems large, and with the snow around it could belong on the front of a Christmas postcard.

Ms. Jareau leads Emily and I up to the front door. The plump blonde woman-Mrs. Morgan-I saw in the picture Mr. Hotchner showed me opens the door and pulls Ms. Jareau into a hug.

"JJ!" she exclaims.

Ms. Jareau laughs. "Nice to see you, too, Penelope."

Mrs. Morgan turns to look at Emily and I. "These must be Spencer and Emily," she says, repeating the hug ritual with the two of us. I stiffen automatically-I do not like being touched.

After she releases us, Mrs. Morgan turns and yells into the house. "Derek! Get down here and meet the kids."

Mr. Morgan is tall and muscle-bound, a stunning contrast to his wife. "I'm here, Baby Girl," he says, peering at us. "Hey."

He sticks out his hand. Emily shakes it, but I just stare and wave awkwardly. "Um, I don't shake hands."

Mr. Morgan seems to be momentarily stunned, but takes this in stride. "Okay, then. I'm Derek and-"

His wife cuts him off. "Chocolate Thunder, are you just going to leave them standing there in the cold? For heaven's sake, invite them in."

Mr. Morgan looks chastised. It is amusing to see this intimidating man told off by a woman who seems to be his exact opposite. "Come in, then," he says.

We enter, and Emily and I look around in silence. There are no similarities between our home and this home. I think we could be happy here.

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**Jelix12-aw, thank you. Hope this satisfies!**

**CrimeFan23-Thanks! I like it, too :)**

**NatNazzy-Yeah, it's good for an author to be able to evoke emotion in a reader. It means you're doing well.**

**melissa smiles123-yup, this is what happens.**

**Hope you enjoy! Review, please.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. Sorry for any inconsistencies, I am dealing with strong symptoms of schizophrenia. Now I know how Reid feels, how he's terrified of getting schizophrenia. It's really scary. But enough about me. Oh, and I made up nicknames for Morgan to call JJ and Prentiss. It was necessary. But hey, it's fanfiction! Also, I typed like half of this on a laptop with no "a" or "c" keys. Woohoo :P In addition, I made Reid still ahead in school, though not as much-he was in eighth grade at age ten. So unless he skipped high school years...okay, that all made sense in my head.  
**

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Mrs. Morgan leads us into the kitchen. She looks at the two of us and shakes her head. "You two are so skinny." She turns and pulls cookies off a tray and hands them to Emily and I. They're still warm; probably haven't been out the oven for long.

"Thank you, Mrs. Morgan," and gesture for Emily to follow my lead.

Mrs. Morgan stops in her tracks. "Oh, no no no. That won't do."

I am petrified. What did I do wrong? Did I make her so upset that they won't take Emily and I?

"You must call me Penelope, dear. Penelope and Derek."

I breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't anything drastic, then.

Mr. Morgan-Derek, I remind myself-appears at the door to the kitchen with Ms. Jareau. The social worker looks relieved to see us appearing comfortable, eating homemade cookies -the first I have ever had.

"Baby Girl," Derek says to Penelope, "how about you bring Cookie Monster and Pretty Boy out to the living room. Blondie here wants to talk to them."

I look at Derek. Baby Girl I'm willing to accept. After all, he is talking to his wife. Blondie makes sense-Ms. Jareau's hair. Cookie Monster is probably based off the rate Emily is devouring cookies-almost faster than Penelope can hand them to her. But Pretty Boy? I have always been told I'm plain, especially when compared to my beautiful sister.

Penelope leads us into the living room. It is painted a vibrant purple, a color I'm guessing Penelope chose. Derek doesn't seem the type to paint an entire room purple-or anything, to be honest.

I perch on a cream colored couch. Emily falls next to me, and I frown at her. This isn't our home-she should respect other people's belongings. She sticks her tongue out at me.

"Tell them some about yourselves," Ms. Jareau prompts.

Much in character, Emily starts. "My name is Emily Prentiss Reid, and I'm thirteen. I have to go to school, even though Spencer doesn't. My parents send me because I'm pretty, even though Spence is a genius."

Ms. Jareau frowns. "A genius in what way, sweetheart?" I can tell that she thinks Emily is in the hero-worship stage, saying I'm a genius because I'm her older brother and caregiver.

Emily gestures to me, letting me explain. I sigh. "I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute."

The three adults are staring at me. I hide behind my hair, which is getting long, almost to my shoulders.

Emily is laughing. I can feel her shaking next to me. I smack her lightly on the top of her head, and she pouts at me.

"Spence has facts on everything," she says. "He reads whenever he has time, and remembers everything he reads. I think that if Mom and Dad hadn't made him stop going to school, he would be in college already."

"How old are you, genius?" Derek asks.

"Almost seventeen," I tell him. His eyes go wide, comparing Emily's statement and my explanation of my intelligence with my age.

"How long since you've last been to school?" Ms. Jareau asks me. I bite my lip, thinking.

"My last year was my eighth grade year, when I was...ten?"

I can see the expressions on their faces. They are at a cross between not believing me and being in awe.

"So you and Emily both had an advantage," Penelope says slowly. "You're a genius, she's stunning."

"He's not half bad looking himself," Derek says. "I called him Pretty Boy for a reason."

Penelope hits her husband. "Don't scare the poor boy," she chides.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Emily and I are in Ms. Jareau's car on the way back to our house.

"What do you think of the Morgans?" she asks Emily and I.

Emily grins, bouncing up and down a little. "When can we move in?" she asks, making Ms. Jareau and I laugh. "What?" she asks. "I loved it there. They were so nice, and I think they liked us, too."

Ms. Jareau glances at my little sister. "We'll have to put the paperwork through the proper channels, but I think...sometime next week."

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**Well, hopefully my next update comes sooner than sometime next week...sorry, my computer access is really hit or miss.**

**All those who favorited or followed my story...thanks! Of course, I'd love to hear what you thought of the story, but...oh, well.**

**To my lovely reviewers, thank you so much! It means the world to know what you guys think.**

**A1fictiongrl: I'm trying to use their personalities. That's what makes an AU still a fanfic, more so than the use of the characters.**

**melissa smiles123: You're welcome! And smiles back :D**

**everyday I'm shuffiling: Hooked? Oi, that makes it sound like an addiction... And I think Reid would make a good big brother. **

**Please review. Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top? **


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. Oh noes! Things go wrong! Enjoy, and virtual cookies and much love to anyone who catches my episode reference in this chapter! Also, just realized I forgot to do this earlier...I do not own Criminal Minds. I only own my mind, not those of any criminals. I think... So, yeah.  
**

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It is hard to return to our normal lives after getting a glimpse of what we could have. The only thing that keeps Emily and I going is the knowledge that we could be back with Derek and Penelope soon.

* * *

A few days later there is a knock at the door. I open it to see Ms. Jareau there, flanked by Mr. Hotchner and Mr. Rossi. I invite her in, crossing my fingers behind my back. I don't believe in the superstition, but I figure it can't hurt.

Ms. Jareau's face is serious. When she opens her mouth, the one sentence that leave it brings my heart crashing down. "There's a problem with the paperwork."

When she sees my face fall, she rushes to console me. "We're trying to get it worked out now, don't worry."

"What's the matter with the paperwork?" I hear myself ask. As soon as I do this I am mentally kicking myself. I don't know if I want to know what goes on with the paperwork.

"Derek has a record of a previous arrest, as well as expunged criminal records, leading the counsel to question just why the records were hidden. The fact that he's a police officer of good standing isn't making a difference. Like I said, we're trying to work it out now."

I lead the three of them to the kitchen and pour her a cup of coffee. "So now what do we do?" I ask. "Wait?"

Ms. Jareau nods sadly. "That, and pray for things to turn out okay."

The door opens, and Emily slips in, a bundle of wool in her new winter clothes. Upon seeing the look on my face, she stops. "What's wrong, Spence?"

I let Ms. Jareau take over the task of telling Emily the news. Her reaction is instantaneous. "What! No! This can't happen. Everything was gonna work out, and we were gonna be a real family!"

Ms. Jareau's blue eyes are sad. "I know, sweetheart. We're trying to work it out. And you and Spencer are a real family."

Emily shakes her head. "No. A _real_ family, with a mom and a dad, and two kids, a boy and and a girl. And a dog. Derek said they have a dog, but that the dog was with the neighbors so it wouldn't scare us."

I laugh at Emily's description. She just portrayed the cookie cutter family from the 1950's. All that was missing was the white picket fence.

Emily kicks me under the table, and I grimace. She may only be thirteen, but she kicks _hard_.

"Em," I say. "Family doesn't mean having all the pieces that are typically portrayed. 'Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.' David Ogden Stiers."

"'To maintain a joyful family requires much from both the parents and the children.' Pope John Paul II," Emily counters.

I am impressed. My sister has seemed to pick up some of the quotes I've thrown around on various occasions.

I can't help but snicker at the looks on the faces of Ms. Jareau, Mr. Hotchner, and Mr. Rossi. Clearly they were not expecting two teenagers, two neglected children, to have these kinds of weapons in their mental arsenal.

"I'm not surprised to hear that out of Spencer," Ms. Jareau says, "but to hear it from you as well, Emily, well...that threw me for a loop."

Mr. Rossi looks at Ms. Jareau. "Why are you not surprised to hear the quote from Spencer? Because he's older?"

Ms. Jareau looks at me. I sigh, knowing what she wants me to tell the two men. "I have a IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute," I tell them, repeating the words in the exact same order I told them to Penelope and Derek. I get much the same reaction out of Ms. Jareau's two colleagues.

"What was the last grade you completed, and how old were you?" I am asked.

"Eighth grade. I was ten," I reply.

Mr. Hotchner leans towards Mr. Rossi. "We need to get this kid back in school, Dave. Despite having not been in school for...six years, I think, he could probably catch up and graduate with kids his age."

I am intrigued to hear this exchange. Do they really think I could do that? It's been almost seven years since I was last in school, and while I've been teaching myself-thank God for the library-I don't know if I could catch up."

"Hotch, is that even possible?" Ms. Jareau asks. "For him to make up four years of high school in a year and a half?"

"JJ, you heard what he said. The kid's a genius," Mr. Hotchner says. "I think he could do it. Spencer, you've had no schooling since you were ten?"

I nod, then shake my head. "No _official_ schooling," I say. "I've taught myself things out of books. I remember everything I read. I've read textbooks on everything from world history to calculus. I did the practice problems and got them all right."

"In _calculus_?" Ms. Jareau asks incredulously. "I was an honors student and I was still in my teacher's room several days a week for help with calc."

I shrug. "It's really not that hard."

Mr. Rossi purses his lips. "I think he can do it."

* * *

The next day the three social workers return with a pile of books and textbooks. My eyes go wide. Books and education are something I've been craving since I left school.

They put the books down on the table. I pull the closest one towards me and start devouring it, my eyes skipping over the page in ecstasy. It is a technical text on physics, and I can see the practical applications and envision situations where I would actually use this.

Ms. Jareau pulls me out of my thoughts by murmuring my name. "Yes?" I say, looking up and pushing my glasses up my nose.

"I said we'll be back tomorrow. Enjoy your reading."

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**Well, that's that. Thank you to the nine people who favorited this and the twenty-five who followed it. I feel so loved!  
**

**A much-deserved thank you to 123a456e, A1fictiongrl (I hope this is a little longer; it needed to end where it did), and melissa smiles123 for reviewing. And a HUGE shoutout/thank you to NatNazzy, who is a great writer (and supporter of my FictionPress Criminal Minds-type thing) and reviewed (I'm so sad FFW is over, by the way...). Not that I don't love all of you.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it's so short, my muse abandoned me halfway through. **

* * *

True to her word, Ms. Jareau returns the next day, accompanied again by Mr. Hotchner and Mr. Rossi.

"How far into the books are you, Spencer?" Mr. Hotchner asks.

I grin. "Finished."

Mr. Hotchner's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "_All_ of them?"

I nod.

"How?" Mr. Rossi asks.

"20,000 words per minute," I remind him.

Ms. Jareau breaks in. "We've got the paperwork worked out...Derek's record as a cop, and the character references from his coworkers, were enough to override the concerns with his arrest and all."

In a rare show of emotion, I hop up and down. "When can we move in?"

Ms. Jareau breaks into a huge grin. "We were thinking we'd pick Emily up from school on our way over."

I smile, and go to gather both mine and Emily's things.

* * *

An hour later we are parked outside Emily's middle school, waiting the few minutes until she is dismissed. She wouldn't know to look for the car, so I get out and stand by a tree.

A woman in a blue mini van pulls up to the curb, presumably to pick up her own child. Upon seeing me, her face contorts and she gets out of the car.

"What the hell are you doing here? High school gets out fifteen minutes later than the middle school. You're not cutting class, are you? You look like you could be a stoner or something, in those clothes. Stay away from the children!"

I am hurt. My clothes are threadbare, yes, but they're clean, at least.

Before I can retort angrily, Emily runs up to me.

"Stay away from him, child," the lady warns, her tone furious, most likely at the thought of a beautiful young girl like Emily having anything to do with someone "like me."

Emily furrows her brow. "Spence, why is she telling me to stay away from you? Is something wrong?"

The lady answers for me. "He's clearly the stoner, dropout type. I mean, _look_ at him. His clothes are worn, he's far too thin, and he should still be in school. High school's not out for another ten minutes, yet here he is."

Emily jumps right in to defend me, like a little tigress. "Spencer is none of what you think he is. He's not in school because our parents forced him to leave to take care of the house. He's actually a genius. We don't have much money-our parents don't work. They're hardly ever home. They don't care about us. His clothes are worn, as you say, because we don't have money for new ones. And he's thin because he doesn't get enough to eat."

The lady makes a sound of disbelief.

Ms. Jareau gets out of the car. "Emily, Spencer, are you coming? Derek and Penelope are waiting."

The lady starts delivering her tirade to Ms. Jareau, but our social worker won't stand for it. "Emily and Spencer are two of the finest children I know. It's not their fault that they come off like they do. Their parents are alcoholics who leave the children to fend for themselves. Don't judge unless you know the whole story."

With that she leads the two of us back to the car.

* * *

When we arrive at Derek and Penelope's house, Emily's eyes go wide. "What are we doing here?" she asks.

"Moving in," I tell her, and she screams.

* * *

**This is probably my last post until after new year's; I can only get on the mobile site at home. Have a happy holiday, everyone!**

**Thanks to melissa smiles123, I.C.2014, 123a456e, A1fictiongrl, sugarhigh9394, and TheMysteriousGeek2345 (who also caught the 'Profiler, Profiled' reference) for reviewing! It means a lot to know that people are enjoying my story.  
**

**Merry Christmas/whatever-else-you-celebrate!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, I'm back :) Sorry for the delay...my muse seemed to have transferred to Hobbit work for a while. Have four Hobbit fics up, "Frateri," "Sibling Love and Rivalry, "Alone," " and "The Lost Ones." Also sorry it's so short...I wanted to give you guys _something_. Thank you to TheMysteriousGeek2345, 123a456e, pipinheart, NatNazzy, and Doc. blu xx for reviewing :)  
**

* * *

Ms. Jareau leads Emily and I into Derek and Penelope's house. Penelope comes running. "Emily! Spencer! Hi!" Derek follows at a more sedate pace, smirking at his wife's enthusiasm.

"Where are your bags?" he asks us.

"In Ms. Jareau's car," Emily says.

Derek heads outside to get our bags. I try to follow him, to help, but he sends me back inside with a grin. "Uh-uh, kid. You go inside and let my baby girl fawn over you."

I grin and follow his instructions. To no one's surprise, Penelope has food for Emily and I. This time, she baked cupcakes.

After Derek returns with our bags, he and Penelope lead us upstairs to what will be our rooms. We are pleasantly surprised-both rooms are spacious and airy. Emily's is painted a light green with flower details, mine navy blue, and both are decorated accordingly. They look like the kind of place I'd seen on television, the kind of place I never imagined Emily and I would ever get to stay in.

Even better, to me, then the size of my room is the floor to ceiling bookshelf installed along one wall, filled with all manner of books. I immediately race over to look at them, causing Derek to laugh.

"There's a lot more in here than just those books, Kid. We bought you new clothes, school supplies, a computer, pretty much anything you could want."

I look at Derek and shake my head. "No...it's too much."

Derek immediately counters. "It's not enough, Kid. Not after all you've been through."

I frown, and Derek cuts me off before I can even open my mouth. "Don't protest, Kid. I know you cared for yourself and Emily for far too long, with no help from your parents. You were neglected entirely. Penelope and I are going to make up for that. We are going to be everything you ever wanted."

* * *

That night Emily and I are well-fed for one of the first times in our lives. Derek and Penelope ask us if we want to want to watch a movie, and we nod. Derek sticks a DVD in the player, and we sit back. A battle scene comes on, right from the get go, and I furrow my brow. Why are they starting with a battle?

After the battle a lush green landscape with funny little people is shown. I am confused. What is going on here?

The movie progresses, and I start to get into the story. The characters are strange and don't look right, but I can ignore that.

Once the movie is over, I look at Derek. "That was good," I tell him.

Derek smiles at me. "There are books, too, Spencer. They should be on your bookshelf. Under 'T' for Tolkien. It's a trilogy-the whole thing will be together. _The Lord of the Rings_."

* * *

Later I lie in bed reading the books that go with the movie we watched. I have had a relatively good day-no yelling, no hitting, good food. I just hope it can last.


End file.
